


shouldn't it be C1-918?

by untitled but hiatus (let_them_be_happy)



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Alec Being an Asshole, Light Angst, M/M, alec has a dirty mind, possibly permanently unfinished, that's why cas is a character, the oc is actually castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_them_be_happy/pseuds/untitled%20but%20hiatus
Summary: But, again, the new guy still looks relatively calm and either he’s got a hell of a composure or he’s genuinely unconcerned by the possible psychotic holding a gun to his back. (And damn that is an ugly coat. Alec kinda wants to ask where he got it just because he wants to avoid that place at all costs.) Alec’s internally debating between giving the guy a point for bravery or taking away his point for that ugly-ass coat as Max steps forward, clearly curious about the new guy. No matter how much she might say she doesn’t like being called their leader, that’s pretty much the role Max has taken on. She studies the new guy before asking the question that they’re all familiar with. “What’s your designation?”Unusually, the new guy seems hesitant about this question, as his head tilts to the side like he actually has to figure out what Max’s question really means. Eventually, he speaks, and Alec very determinedly does not find anything attractive about the voice that comes out. “They called me J1-918.”





	shouldn't it be C1-918?

**Author's Note:**

> the alec/castiel fic that absolutely no one asked for that i thought needed to be written in december 2016 where cas is not actually cas but a transgenic  
> these (-) mark pre-determined breaks and the ao3 provided breaks are actual holes in the plot

Alec doesn’t really have any high hopes for the guy Mole’s bringing in, a gun pressed to the guy’s back, but the fact that the guy looks pretty calm gives him a few points in Alec’s book. Given that Mole hasn’t actually shot the guy (yet), Alec thinks it’s pretty safe to assume that he’s not human, which makes him the newest resident in Transgenic Central, named for the fact that everyone and their mother now knows that a good portion, if not all, of the transgenics in Seattle are holed up in Terminal City.

He’s not the only one whose attention’s been caught by Mole holding a gun to some random guy, others in the “command center” turning their heads and attention to the new face. By the time Mole’s led the guy dead center of the room, Max and Logan have shaken themselves out of the small (well, not small enough so that they risk touching each other) corner they’d carved out for themselves. “Found him just inside the city walls,” Mole says gruffly, gesturing with his gun in a way that would make, should make, Alec amends, anyone nervous. With shove, Mole gets the guy to turn around, showing his barcode off to the room at large, proving that he is, in fact, one of them.

But, again, the new guy still looks relatively calm and either he’s got a hell of a composure or he’s genuinely unconcerned by the possible psychotic holding a gun to his back. (And damn that is an ugly coat. Alec kinda wants to ask where he got it just because he wants to avoid that place at all costs.) Alec’s internally debating between giving the guy a point for bravery or taking away his point for that ugly-ass coat as Max steps forward, clearly curious about the new guy. No matter how much she might say she doesn’t like being called their leader, that’s pretty much the role Max has taken on. She studies the new guy before asking the question that they’re all familiar with. “What’s your designation?”

_Un_ usually, the new guy seems hesitant about this question, as his head tilts to the side like he actually has to figure out what Max’s question really means. Eventually, he speaks, and Alec very determinedly does _not_ find anything attractive about the voice that comes out. “They called me J1-918.”

Alec refuses to let his eyebrows shoot up his forehead like they want to, because 918? He’s never heard of the designations going that high. (Although, fair - the logical assumption that they were numbered in the order they were made would make _some_ sense.) And, J1? None of the designations of anyone in Transgenic Central, those that have them, is anything other than X. If Alec hadn’t seen the guy’s barcode himself, he’d think the whole thing was a sham. Logan’s the only one with the decency to show his confusion, clearly repressing the urge to raise his hand like a child in class. Alec very determinedly does not snort. “918? Why did they call you 918?”

J1-918, because Alec’s not a complete dick he will mentally refer to people as they introduce themselves (sometimes), turns his thousand-yard-stare to Logan. “Because that was the day of my creation. September 18th,” J1-918 says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Alec can see he’s not the only one internally going _ohhhhhhh_ once J1-918 explains himself. On the other hand, the guy’s got a birthday, which isn’t something the rest of them can say (normal people excluded). J1-918 apparently sees it too, because his eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Is that not the case with everyone?”

Before he can stop himself, Alec scoffs, vaguely amused. “Yeah, I don’t think April has 94 days,” he says, and, for some reason, his comment makes J1-918 hunch in on himself a little more. Alec fights the urge to hit himself in the head for the way he seems to be able to knock this guy’s self-esteem out with just a sentence.

“Well,” J1-918 says, apparently with enough self-esteem left that he still has things to say without being asked a question first. “It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve realized I was different from the rest of you, though I’m not certain if it’s a good thing or not.” Well, _that’s_ a vagueass statement if Alec’s ever heard one. Logan looks intrigued because, hello, he’s a dork, but Max looks interested too, given that J1-918 is holding all of her attention. A rare occurrence, when someone has as much on their plate as Max does.

Alec snorts, like the asshole he pretends to be and ends up resembling most of the time. “Oh yeah? And what makes you so different from the rest of us?” _Aside from the birthday_ , Alec thinks, but he refuses to call himself bitter.

J1-918, because they still haven’t gotten a name out of the guy (although, still fair, they haven’t exactly asked for one), furrows his eyebrows again, a frown deep-set on his face. “I’m not sure, though I think it might have something to do with these.” New guy shrugs the huge ass coat he’d been wearing off, and everyone else in the room takes about three steps back in amazement. Protruding from J1-918’s back are, well, wings - huge beautiful blue-black wings. With something on his face that looks like a mixture between hesitance and smugness, J1-918 spreads them, and Alec realizes they reach about a foot and a half further than the tips of J1-918’s fingers, if he were holding his arms out for comparison. Alec swallows, trying to ignore the fact that this entire display has him more than a little turned on.

(So Alec’s got a few kinks he didn’t know about, no big deal. The fact that J1-918 might fill each and every one of them? That might have Alec up thinking for a few nights. And doing other things. Several times a night. In many different positions.)

When Alec, along with the rest of the room, manages to pull his eyes away from the wings, the look on J1-918’s face is most definitely smug, which makes Alec aware of the fact that his jaw is hanging open like an idiot. “Yeah, I’d say that might have something to do with it,” Alec says, acutely aware that his voice is about ten times hoarser than it had been.

J1-918, the asshole, waves his fingers in hello to Alec, and Alec sees the delicate webbing low between his fingers for the first time. It’s then that Joshua takes a few cautious steps forward, sniffing the air around J1-918 like he’s identifying exactly what makes the new guy tick - something, Alec realizes after a moment, Joshua can probably do. “Lot of bird in your cocktail,” Joshua says, once he’s sniffed his fill. He sniffs again, just once this time. “Some bat in your cocktail too.”

Like a flip of a switch, J1-918 grabs his coat from where he’d let it drop to the floor, pulling it back on like he’s gonna catch fire if he doesn’t. “The scientists who made me told me that I was special and that they’d designed me mainly for reconnaissance. They never told me how they found the exact DNA sequence needed for a specimen to grow a pair of wings.” He tugs on the coat’s collar, adjusting it so it isn’t folded over on itself.  
Alec nods at J1-918’s back, just to needle at the guy, because it clearly makes him uncomfortable. “Take it you’re the only one who managed to grow a set?” Max kicks him in the shin, and Alec responds in kind. He knows he’s being an asshole, and he likes it that way, thank you very much. Sometimes his curiosity gets him into trouble, but this time Alec really wants to know. It’s…interesting, to say the least.

J1-918 pulls on the coat lapels, avoiding, well, everyone’s eyes by the looks of it. Alec spares a few milliseconds to think about it, and he realizes that he’s the only one there that J1-918’s made actual eye contact with. The new guy has avoided meeting everyone else’s eyes directly since he got there. “I wouldn’t know. I’m the only specimen to make it past infancy,” J1-918 says very quietly, and Alec expects the next hit from Max.

Okay, so Alec’s level of douchiness just went from eight to about fifteen, maybe even eighteen. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet. “Sorry, man.” J1-918 nods awkwardly, but he manages to catch Alec’s eye as he does so. Huh. Alec makes a mental note that definitely has nothing to do with the unusual shade of blue that is J1-918’s eye color.

“What made you come here?” Oh thank whatever God there is left that Max makes J1-918 focus on her and not the monumental fuck up that is Alec and his inability to not be a douche for just five seconds.

J1-918 shifts on his feet, his chin held high despite his obvious nervousness. “I heard from the news stations that there was a large gathering of transgenics here. I thought…I thought that I could be useful to you.”

Max’s eyebrows fly up into her hairline, and, okay, Alec is trying to figure out where this guy is coming from to make his answer make sense. Oddly enough, Logan’s the first one to come up with any sort of response to that statement. “They taught you that you had to be useful to be wanted somewhere?” Alec thinks that sounds stupid, but J1-918 nods, making Alec feel even worse somehow. At least in the main facility they’d never been taught that. If they had, none of them would’ve been able to transition to the outside world.

That’s to say nothing of how difficult it had been for several of them to transition to the outside world without Manticore giving them orders day and night. (Alec resolutely does not think of another man wearing his face and running around killing people because it’s what his damn _Blue Lady_ wanted him to do.)

“My handlers…they stressed the importance of usefulness and necessity, though I’m beginning to understand that this is not always the case,” J1-918 is saying when Alec pulls himself out of his head, new guy’s hands occupied with the sleeves of the ugly coat. J1-918 glances up at Alec, only to look away just as quickly when he sees that Alec’s eyes are on him. Come to think of it, that coat looks a little familiar now that Alec thinks about it, though Alec’s pretty sure he’s never met the guy before.

Eh, whatever. It’s probably just a weird coincidence. Back to the bullshit J1-918 was fed about needing to be useful to be wanted by others. (Not like that, like for companionship - ah, fuck. AS A FRIEND. Geez, minds out of the gutter, people.)

(Alec’s mind is stuck in the gutter.)

Max nods in agreement with J1-918’s statement. “It’s definitely not like that here, no matter what Mole might say.” Mole just waves a hand, brushing Max’s jab off like a bug. “So, back to the point. You wanna stay here?” J1-918 nods, apparently having gone back to his strong and silent routine (bad mind, Alec, bad dirty mind). She hums, considering J1-918 for a few moments. “What name do you want?”

And J1-918’s tilted his head to the side again, squinting at Max in confusion. “Name?” He fidgets with the sleeves of his coat and shifts on his feet uneasily. “I never considered a name. Is that something you all do here?”

Max nods because that's what she does when she's not busy being a badass and leading a bunch of soldiers genetically engineered in a lab in the middle of nowhere - she names people. Didn't take Alec long to realize, or to be named himself for that matter. “Most people don't like their designations, it makes them feel replaceable,” Max tells J1-918 like that's supposed to spark his imagination. “If you want, other people can suggest things and you can say which one you like best,” she says next, when J1-918 looks completely lost and far more terrified than he should at the concept of even getting something like a name.

Alec kinda wants to go for the obvious and suggest that J1-918 be called “Wings” but Logan comes up with a suggestion before Alec can make up his mind. “What about Angel?” It’s such a blindingly obvious comparison - the image of man with the wings of a bird, only J1-918 would probably be called more of a dark angel than a proper angel - that Alec doesn’t even know what he was thinking with Wings.

J1-918 considers the name, like he’s never actually heard the word before so he doesn’t actually know the religious and social connotations attached to it, which means he’s just thinking of it like he would any other word. Alec wonders what that’s like, and tries to remember what he was like when Max gave him his name, if he was trying it on like a second skin or just seeing if he fit into it as it was. He doesn’t think he’s forgotten a lot, but he’s apparently forgotten a few minor details in the middle of what turned out to be his last mission for Manticore.

Before Alec gets stuck on Memory Lane, J1-918 nods. “I like it,” he says, and just like that, he becomes Angel, the newest member of the transgenic residents in Terminal City.

(Alec takes one look at the smile on Angel’s face and tries really, really hard not to think about what those lips might feel like wrapped around his cock.)

-

For some reason or another, Max decides that the best person to help Angel around the city is Alec. It’s not too bad, really, just showing the guy around and telling him who’s who. Nothing more than playing tour guide and giving a brief history lesson on everything they’ve been doing since Manticore went to shit.

Except it’s so much more because Angel ends up following Alec pretty much everywhere, meaning that, before where it just would’ve been Alec, now it’s Alec-and-Angel. That also means that Alec learns a lot more about Angel’s personality and a lot more about Angel’s body. Neither of which really do anything to stem Alec’s dick’s growing desire to have pretty much anything to do with Angel.

Angel’s got a dry sense of humor, dry as the Sahara, so dry that it takes a full month before Alec realizes that Angel actually has a sense of humor and has spent the past month making actual _jokes_.

It takes a month and a half for Alec to convince Angel to cut wing-holes in his ugly coat.

* * *

 Alec waves Joshua back, bringing his other hand to his head. “Josh, I'm fine, you can stop fussing.”

Of course, Angel chooses that moment to rush into the room, his wings flaring out behind him to keep his balance. “Sorry, I came as soon as I heard Alec was back,” Angel says, apparently having run to their makeshift infirmary if the slightly breathless quality to his voice is any indication. No matter what Max might say, Alec very resolutely does not blush at that. Angel doesn’t notice, not really, his eyes occupied by cataloguing all of Alec’s visible injuries.

Just like he did with Joshua, Alec waves Angel’s concern away. “What is it with people around here thinking I can’t take care of myself?”

Max is still frowning at him over her crossed arms. “I’d cuff you over the head for asking that question in the first place, but you’re injured, so I’ll refrain.” Instead, she lands a solid punch on Alec’s good arm and is back against the wall before Alec can blink. For two seconds, Alec thinks it’s because she feels bad about hitting him while he’s injured (unlikely but possible), only to turn his head and find that Angel has somehow placed himself between Alec and Joshua in the time that Alec wasn’t looking.

What comes out of Alec’s mouth is a very ineloquent “oh” at this sudden turn of events. Because now Angel is right in his personal space. And Alec means _right_ there, like if he shifted the tiniest bit, he would be finding out if Angel’s lips were really as soft as they look and as Alec imagines they are. (Alec no longer denies to himself that Angel being aggressive isn’t a turn on because it is, in fact, a very big turn on for Alec.) “Thanks,” is the next thing to come out of Alec’s mouth.

Joshua lets out what sounds like a vaguely strangled cough, and Angel jumps away from Alec, his cheeks pink. Max looks far too smug when Alec glances at her, her chin up high and her lips twisted into what Alec could only call a smirk. “Alec and Angel getting busy,” Joshua says quietly - not quite quiet enough - and Max does not manage to hold in a laugh while the two in question very determinedly do not look at each other.

Max pats Joshua on the arm, definitely smug when Alec looks at her again. “You’re right, Big Fella,” she says, turning to leave. “They _should_ be getting busy.”

* * *

Alec is understandably cautious the first time he and Angel kiss - _really_ kiss, not just pressing lips against cheeks and bruised knuckles. He’s felt like this only once before, and that ended up with the other person in a coma on life support.

It doesn’t stop his heart from jackrabbiting in his chest or his stomach from tying itself into knots.

When they break apart - _it was just lips chill out, Alec, you’ve kissed dirtier than that_ \- Alec thinks he is so very screwed. He’s kissed and been kissed with way more action than that, all tongue and teeth and a frantic energy to get to the good part _right now_.

But with Angel, Alec still feels the energy, but it’s more like a hum under his skin, building up but not in a rush to go anywhere. It’s nice, some distant part of him thinks. It feels natural, like they’ve got all the time in the world and then some.

* * *

Falling into bed with Angel should’ve been easy, even though Alec knows his heart might not take it well, being only a one night stand. Alec hadn’t been expecting to have to convince Angel to sleep with him, though he doesn’t regret it once he has. Because Angel is _fantastic_ in bed. It’s not like Alec is a chump, either, he doesn’t just lay there and take it. No, he’s an active participant too, but Angel does things that has Alec believing in some form of higher power. (Angel thinks that’s funny when Alec tells him, especially given where Angel’s name comes from.)

Then it happens again. And again, and again. Before Alec even realizes what’s happening, it’s become routine for Angel to follow Alec to bed instead of heading off to his own room. Everything’s perfect for almost two weeks, and then everything falls apart.

Alec’s sleeping in his room on his mattress (ah! a real mattress that _he’d_ found for himself) when he hears someone approaching the bed. His first thought is _oh, Angel’s coming to bed_ until the someone puts their hands around Alec’s neck and starts squeezing.

* * *

Angel struggles against the ropes tied around his chest for a few moments, and slumps back, defeated, when he doesn’t manage to make it budge even the slightest bit. He flexes his fingers, but his wrists are tied, very securely, to opposite sides of the chair. He tests the rope around his legs, but his ankles are tied just as well. Angel shifts in the chair, pulling against one of the legs, but the chair’s bolted to the ground.

For a moment, Angel is disappointed by the fact that he is being held captive by a group of incredibly well trained soldiers. Then again, he’s also incredibly grateful.

Only once Angel’s finished testing his restraints do Max, Alec, and Logan step out of the room’s shadows, silent save for the slight whir of Logan’s exoskeleton. Angel considers going for the innocent ploy, but he takes one look at the stony expressions on their faces and he knows it would be useless. To be honest, Angel isn’t sure how he is going to answer their questions. His training tells him to do one thing, but his emotions are telling him to do something else.

Oddly enough, Max is not the one who conducts the interrogation. Alec stands slightly forward of Max and Logan, just enough for Angel to be able to tell that he’s the one in charge. “Who’s giving you your orders?”

Angel does what he does best and meets Alec’s eyes coolly, and tries to ignore the pang in his chest at the flat out betrayal he finds there. It’s almost enough to make Angel want to tell Alec everything, all of it from the very beginning.

Almost.

He says nothing, just stares Alec down like he has any hopes of keeping them out of this, for their own safety.

Alec’s mad, Angel can tell that easy enough. There’s a line of tension in his shoulders and a hard set to his jaw as he tries to extract information from Angel’s face alone. But Angel did what he did for a reason, and he’s not about to go spilling his secrets now, and especially not to the people he wants to protect (read: is willing to die for). He knows that if he wants to keep them safe, he needs to keep his mouth shut, even if these people hate him for it.

He’ll give his life for Alec, even if Alec thinks that Angel wants nothing more than his head on a pike (and Angel tries, absent gods above does he try not to think about how much his chest hurts when Alec keeps looking down on him like Angel is nothing).

The staring contest lasts for almost five minutes before Max starts tapping her fingers on her arm where she has them crossed over her chest. Alec looks away then, glaring at Max for a few seconds before storming out of the room and letting the door shut with a loud _clang_ behind him. Max doesn’t have the patience for interrogation that doesn’t involve some form of violence, so she follows Alec out relatively soon afterwards.

Logan, surprisingly enough, stays, studying Angel’s face like he might catch something Alec might’ve missed in those five minutes. It’s barely thirty seconds until Logan straightens though, something like understanding plain on his face. “Okay,” he says quietly, and he nods to Angel once before turning and leaving Angel alone.

Angel doesn’t know what Logan will and won’t tell Alec and Max. He doesn’t even know what Logan saw on his face that made him think he understood what Angel was doing. Either way, Angel figures that he’s going to be stuck there for a while.

-

Two days pass before Angel sees Alec again.

Logan brings him his meals, though why Angel isn’t really sure. Maybe Logan pities him for what he thinks he understands about Angel, but Angel still doesn’t talk to Logan. Angel wants to protect these people, and he hasn’t seen any evidence that his silence is hurting anyone. Until two days pass.

People are running, shouting, basically being loud. Angel doesn’t know what’s going on, but he hopes that the City is well protected against whatever it is. (Because everybody wouldn’t be panicking like this unless they were under attack.) Angel doesn’t expect to see anyone, until he does.

Alec storms into the room, all bright fury and rage balled into one man, and Angel thinks he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. His opinion doesn’t change, not even when Alec holds a knife to his throat, his pulse ratcheting skyward at the first touch of the cool metal. “You better tell me who the hell it is we’re up against because I’m not taking any more of your bullshit. You want to protect them, fine, you’ll be losing a few fingers in the process.”

Angel squints up at Alec’s face, and a cold dread settles in Angel’s chest at what he finds there. “Who,” he says, because it isn’t even a question that someone has died, what with the dark look in Alec’s eyes, but more importantly _who_ has died. It has to have been someone close to Alec, ignoring that it makes Angel sick to his stomach that he knows that, has to have been for Alec to have gotten angry enough to barge into Angel’s little interrogation room when he knows, he _knows_ that Angel is more than capable of getting under Alec’s skin and -

“Joshua.”

It’s like a physical punch to his gut, and for a few full seconds Angel can’t breath. He doesn’t know what he looks like to Alec, but for those few seconds, Angel can’t care less about appearances. He’d known they were stepping up the game, proving that they were serious about killing the entirety of the transgenic community, but to kill _Joshua_ , out of all of them. Killing Max would have been good politically, and Logan would have been a huge loss to the entire Seattle community, but _Joshua_ …Angel takes a deep breath before meeting Alec’s eyes again. “Chimera.” The word tumbles from Angel’s lips, but he feels as if a huge burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Alec tilts his head to the side, but there’s no forgiveness in his eyes - not that Angel expects any, what with how he nearly killed the man holding a knife to his throat. Angel bares his throat by tilting his chin up slightly, but it’s enough to make Alec let up on the knife’s pressure slightly. “Tell me,” Alec says, and Angel takes a moment to admire the fact that this is the closest they’ve been since their fight that led to Angel being tied to this chair. (He also admires the green of Alec’s eyes, but now’s not the time to be sentimental.)

(He doesn’t realize that Alec’s face is softer since the word “Chimera” left his mouth, or the fact that some of Alec’s rage has dissipated since his arrival. The mere fact that Alec said “tell me” and not “talk” should mean something to Angel, but he’s too distracted by Alec’s multitude of freckles to notice.)

Angel meets Alec’s eyes calmly, doing his best to mirror Alec’s stoic expression. “An offshoot of Manticore, and far happier with physical punishments than the originals, I’ve heard. Having never experienced Manticore’s punishments, I can’t say I’m in a place to compare them.” Alec increases the pressure on the knife in his hand, and Angel doesn’t let it deter him, though he does let up. “Operate much like the Familiars, mainly because they share the end goal of destroying all evidence that Manticore ever existed. I don’t know why they keep me around, seeing as how I’m as much evidence of what happened there as you are.”

There’s a slight furrow between Alec’s eyebrows by the time Angel stops talking. “How do you communicate with them?” Angel snorts, and the furrow deepens, matching Alec’s frown. “What’s so funny?”

Angel rolls his eyes and meets Alec’s eyes lazily. “Birdcall. That funny enough for you?” Mad at Angel though he is, Alec can’t quite help the slight smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth. “Thought so,” Angel says, though his tone is fond and not smug in the least. After a long moment, Alec sighs and kneels to the ground, knife sheathed before Alec begins untying the ropes around Angel’s ankles. “Uh, hello? Enemy here? What’re you doing?”

Alec glares up at Angel from the ground. “We’re - I’m,” Alec corrects himself, and Angel is petty enough not to squish the warm feeling that grows in his chest when he does, “going to need you to communicate with your handlers. Let them know you’ve escaped our hold and are going to complete your mission as planned.”

That is most definitely something Angel does not want to do, and the panicked look in his eyes would tell Alec if the other would just _look at him dammit_. “You’re pulling some self-sacrificing plan, aren’t you? Doing something stupid for the good of everyone else?” Alec still doesn’t meet Angel’s eyes, just adjusts so that he’s behind Angel so he can until Angel’s wrists. “You stupid, self-loathing, stubborn _bastard_ ,” Angel says with enough venom (heh, venom) in his voice to make Alec meet Angel’s eyes over Angel’s shoulder.

“What do you care? You were trying to kill me two days ago,” Alec says, his voice and face carefully empty as he does. He looks away then, turning his attention back to the intricate and incredibly secure knots binding Angel to the chair.

Angel wants to punch something, preferably Alec. “What do I _care_? Oh, I don’t know, maybe I don’t want to see you dead!” He shuts his mouth then with an audible click, turning his head away before Alec can look up and see the pink tinge to Angel’s cheeks. “I never _wanted_ to kill you,” Angel says stiffly when he feels Alec go deadly still behind him. “I was here for nearly three months, delaying executing my mission for the fact that _I didn’t want to do it_. I lied to my handlers, told them I needed more time to gain the trust of the inner circle. Needed more time to figure out who all the key players were.”

Alec’s breaths are surprisingly steady behind Angel, and Angel is afraid of what Alec will say next. “We told you who was who within the first two weeks,” Alec says carefully, and Angel doesn’t know if that means that Alec gets it or whether he’s just stating the obvious. He hears Alec start working again, and something tightens around Angel’s heart when he does. “What made you change your mind?”

“My handlers, what else,” Angel says, and no one in the world hates Angel more than he hates himself at that moment. “Threatened to drag me out of here by the tips of my wings and wipe me, make me forget everything that happened here.” He feels Alec’s breath gently ghosting over the wings in question, and Angel stares at the floor as Alec finishes untying his wrists. “I couldn’t let them do that to me.”

His wings flutter in response to the air Alec displaces as he stands. “When you tried to kill me,” Alec starts, and Angel isn’t sure he wants to hear what Alec has to say. “You were noisy. You moved loud enough to wake me when I know for a fact that you can be absolutely silent when moving.” The ropes around Angel’s chest wiggle, and Angel knows that Alec is untying them.

Angel takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. His hands flex, itching to do something but willing to let Alec move at his own pace. “What’s your point.” He thinks he knows what Alec is trying to say, but he wants to heart Alec say it.

The ropes fall into Angel’s lap, and Angel doesn’t want to turn around and see what Alec’s face is saying right now. “You wanted me to hear you,” Alec says, “and you wanted me to stop you from completing your mission.”

It shouldn’t hurt, Angel knows, because Alec knows the truth now, that Angel was sloppy because he wanted, _wants_ Alec to live. The only thing Angel can do is nod dumbly, his eyes downcast as he stares at a random point low on the wall across from him. Alec takes a deep breath from where he is behind Angel, and Angel’s not sure how he should be feeling right about now, or how Alec is feeling.

For some bizarre reason Angel isn’t willing to put a name to, he really hopes that Alec will kiss him.

Max chooses that moment to throw the door open, and Angel has never been happier to see her in his entire life. “What’s taking so long?” She glares at Alec, a well-known frown on her face as she crosses her arms. Alec, from what Angel can tell, throws his arms up into the air in frustration.

Angel, grateful for the interruption, stands from the chair, letting the ropes fall to the ground. He stretches his wings cautiously and slowly - he hadn’t been too sure if he’d been allowed to even shift them in the past two days, so Angel’s trying to get rid of two days’ worth of stiffness. “Where did the shot come from?”

Max, for the first time since entering the room, takes a good look at Angel, and has to stifle some surprise that he’s no longer bound. “Northeast corner where Josh- he was keeping guard. From what we can tell, they got fed up with waiting and just shot whoever was the most vulnerable.” Angel’s stomach turns as Max throws Alec a questioning look. Whatever Alec’s face says in reply seems to work for Max because she doesn’t look as hostile when she looks at Angel again. “You two coming or what?”

Angel nods, and Max exits, leaving Angel and Alec alone again. Just as Angel takes a step towards the door, he’s stopped by Alec’s hand on his arm. “Angel.” Against his better judgement, Angel turns his head to meet Alec’s eyes. Alec looks strangely vulnerable and almost like he’s having a moment of severe déjà vu. “Be careful.”

Those two words make Angel’s mouth go a little dry, and Angel nods once before turning away and following Max out of the room. He leaves Alec behind, and Angel feels like he’s just made a very large mistake.

-

Alec isn’t sure what possessed him to get Angel untied and tell him that he was going to complete his mission, presumably killing all of the transgenics and transhumans in Transgenic Central. Still he did, and now he has to live (or possibly die) with his choice. (He refuses to think that Angel would have been safer if he’d just left the other transgenic tied up in that little room. He wasn’t - isn’t going leave Angel helpless like he left Rachel.)

If it means getting the bastards who thought killing Joshua was a good idea, then Alec’s willing to do pretty much anything.

Angel was right, as much as Alec hates to admit it. Anything includes the possibility of Alec having to pull some stupid self-sacrificing shit. Alec kinda hopes it doesn’t come to something like that, but he knows that if their victory counts on it, Alec’s gonna do it, no matter how Angel feels about it.

* * *

Angel pulls Alec back, just before the point of no return. Alec’s not sure what to make of the look on Angel’s face, though he is fairly certain that he should not be having such vivid thoughts about Angel’s mouth when one or both of them could die in the next ten minutes. “I never told you why I didn’t want to kill you,” Angel says, and, yeah, that kills the sexy thoughts pretty fast. Alec has nothing to say to that, so he waits for Angel to gather his thoughts. Angel chews on his bottom lips a little before continuing. “We first met several years ago, long before I received my mission that brought me here three months ago. You probably don’t remember because you were in the middle of a mission, but my handlers thought it would be beneficial for me to witness a mission in action.” Angel shakes his head, and Alec ducks his head to maintain eye contact. “I was standing too close to the target building when it exploded. You saved my life by dragging me out of the way.”

Alec frowns and vague memories of the mission Angel describes float through his mind. He forces himself to focus and manages to identify what Angel’s referring to, and his eyes go wide. “I pulled you underneath me to protect you from falling debris,” Alec remembers, and Angel nods, confirming Alec’s memory. “I saw your trenchcoat when you showed up and couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. I chalked it up to coincidence but…” Alec stares at Angel. “That was you?”

“I owe you my life,” Angel says by way of an answer. “I accepted this assignment under the hopes that you might remember and, possibly, stop me before I managed to complete it.” He shrugged one shoulder, looking past Alec to the chaos before them. “Shall we?”

Alec nods dumbly, because there’s really nothing else for him to do at this point. Angel doesn’t say anything else, just forges on ahead to his possible doom. Alec listens to the frantic _ba-dumba-dumba-dum_ of his heart for a few seconds before traveling the same path. If there’s anything he’s hoping for after this, he hopes that he and Angel get to have a proper conversation when their lives aren’t being threatened.

-

* * *

The bullet hits Angel before Alec realizes that Angel’s even moved, the _crack_ of the gunshot rattling in his ears. He hits the ground with nothing short of a spectacular shower of dust and various pebbles, though he turns to Angel within seconds. Angel stumbles for a moment before falling backwards, and Alec somehow manages to be in the right place to catch Angel before he lands. It’s a matter of moments for Alec to assess the damage, one hand pressed to the exit wound and the other pressed to the entrance wound. With some shifting, Alec exchanges one hand, the one against the exit wound, for a knee, bringing his now free hand around to pull Angel further into his lap. “Hey, stay with me, Angel,” Alec says, jostling just enough to make sure that Angel’s eyes stay open. It’s an abdomen wound, and Alec prays to every deity still listening that his last words to Angel won’t be “Hey, stay with me.” Not for the first time, Alec wishes Angel’s wings weren’t quite so boney as they dig into his legs, or so large for that matter. Alec has no idea how he’s managing to press a knee to Angel’s back right now.

Alec doesn’t know for certain, but he’s pretty sure that Angel’s got the same fast-healing as the other transgenics from Manticore, even if he did get a little bit of a different mix of DNA. It wouldn’t have been beneficial to have an operative out of the field for too long. But Alec knows about abdomen wounds, and Max even has her own story about being shot in the gut. Then again, Max has also been living among ordinaries for too long, so she was a little slow.

Still. Nobody just bounces back from an abdomen wound.

Except apparently this strange guy who came to Transgenic Central with nothing but a ratty overcoat and a birthday three months ago, because Alec is currently watching the bullet wound close on its own.

It’s a slow process, but the wound is definitely healing itself. Alec thinks he remembers Max saying something about nanites in the guy who gave her his heart or something along those lines, but right now, Alec’s trying to get his heart to calm down enough to realize that Angel’s going to be okay.

He lets out a soft but thoroughly bewildered “what the _fuck_ ” as he watches Angel’s skin knit itself back together through the bloody hole in Angel’s shirt. It’s after almost a full minute of watching this miracle before Alec realizes that someone’s calling his name.

Max is by his side when Alec finally looks away, and the shock and awe he’s feeling must show on his face because the first place Max looks after Alec’s face is down at where Angel’s body is healing itself from what should’ve been a fatal wound. “What the hell,” she says, in a fairly close imitation of Alec’s previous statement.

“Not quite what I said but close,” Alec replies, his wit apparently still intact. He tries to pull Angel closer to him, unsuccessfully, before he finally looks up at Max’s face. “We get the bastards?”

**Author's Note:**

> yes, angel is called J1-918 because i'm trash who named him after jensen and cas's birthday  
> will i finish this one day? who knows


End file.
